


Mac and Dennis Exploit Gay Marriage

by doriangay



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Eating Disorders, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, also abba, and other music, bed sharing, mac says some stupid shit and dennis is like wrow, mostly abba though, oh also dennis is morosexual here bc thats canon, you may woobify them.................once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doriangay/pseuds/doriangay
Summary: "They’d done it a million times before: to get couple’s discounts at restaurants, to run schemes, even once to get a joint doctor’s appointment. What was one more time?"Two dudes getting legally married and living as a couple with a philanthropist they're trying to scam? Doesn't sound very gay to me.





	1. disillusion

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever sunny fic i havent slept in like 40 hours and i feel GREAT 
> 
> there are tws in the tags, but i'll warn for any additional triggers and put extra warnings before potentially triggering chapters, this one contains alcohol and paint abuse but it's a sunny fic so we already knew that 
> 
> this takes place just after the gang tends bar, and ig kinda takes over the timeline from there (no dennis' double life, but some of the situations have been borrowed......like fake dating)

Charlie had been trying to fix the piano for several hours now. Before this morning, Paddy’s hadn’t even owned a piano but here it was, in all it’s rotten glory. Dennis was stood with his first beer of the day clutched tightly in his hand  as he watched his friend peer inside the instrument and pluck sadly at the mouldy strings. Without warning, Charlie pressed down on one of the keys, letting a mournful, discordant note ring through the bar.

Dennis jumped back, his hands instinctively going to his ears, “Jesus Christ, dude,” he wailed, “you really need to throw that thing back in the trash.”

“Where did you find that piece of junk anyway?” Dee asked, leaning against the bar and narrowing her eyes.

Without much warning, Charlie launched into a near-incomprehensible story; Dennis shook his head wordlessly at Dee, who rolled her eyes in response. 

Luckily for them, Mac chose that exact moment to make his grand entrance, “GUYS!” he sang, “guys, I have some incredible news, this is gonna blow your  _ nips _ off.”

“Gross image, but go ahead.” Dee said, taking a swig of her beer and turning to face him.

“Mine and Dennis’ apartment is  _ finally _ going to be renovated!” He was smiling one of his biggest smiles, and Dennis couldn’t help but smile too, with a strange tightness tugging at his chest.

 

_ Their apartment.  _

 

The two of them hadn’t exactly discussed living spaces recently, not since the incident in the suburbs. For now, their arrangement was just fine: Mac and Dennis and Dee and Old Man, that worked out for everyone - with there not being any room in the apartment to breathe, let alone for emotional baggage. But an apartment with just Mac and Dennis? Mac and Dennis and nobody else? That was more than Dennis could take. They filled a bigger space alone than they did in the company of others. Things had been extra difficult since-

With some difficulty, Dennis pulled himself out of his own thoughts. It wouldn’t do to dwell in the past. Mac was still rambling about the apartment, describing how he was trying to find exact replicas of all their old furniture, so the apartment would be the same as it had always been. Weird. Dennis scoffed.

“What, dude?” Mac rolled his eyes at him, “is that not a  _ totally _ normal thing to do after you lose all of your possessions in a fire?”

Dennis chose to ignore that question. “Mac, where did you get the money to do this? It’s not like you have any, we’re both completely broke!”

“Uh…” A slight look of regret passed over Mac’s face, “Frank said he’d cover it, said I owed him one.”

“So now you owe Frank ‘one?’” Dennis voice rose sharply in pitch, “you owe him ONE? Mac, do you know what that even  _ means?” _

“It’s just a  _ favour _ , Dennis. How bad can it be?”

 

That question was answered two hours later when Frank came to them with a scheme. This was an issue within itself: so far none of Frank’s schemes had had a positive outcome. In fact, most of Frank’s schemes had ended in him double crossing them, and the gleeful smile on his face as he began presenting his plan wasn’t exactly a good start. The gang had gathered around Frank, all sat on stools drinking beer. Dennis’ elbow kept knocking against Mac, who had the inability to sit still.

“So, you know what’s popular nowadays?” Frank began, “Charity. Now, I happen to know a guy, let's call him Reggie. And let's say he’s a lawyer, a real good guy - likes to help out the needy - was in the newspaper last week for winning an anti discrimination case for a couple o’ gays. And now let’s say he runs into two gay guys down at his country club; they’ve fallen on hard times, their one wish is for their charity to thrive. What will the lawyer do?”

Raising his hand tentatively, Charlie said, “Bang them?”

“No, Charlie, he won’t bang them,” Frank said patiently, “he’ll give them a big, fat, cheque.” He smiled at the gang, rubbing his hands together, “Now I can get you into the country club, but I won’t be able to monitor you in there, on account of me being banned for life. And you’ll have to get legally married, of course. Not a white wedding or any of that crap, just so we have the proof that you’re married - they  _ will  _ ask you at the club.”

Dennis tried to catch Mac’s eye, whether for reassurance or to give him an “i told you so” glare, he wasn’t sure. Instead, he found himself looking over at Dee, who was smirking, as though she knew something he didn’t.

“Wait a minute, Frank.” Mac leaned slightly into Dennis, confused, “you said gay  _ guys.  _ Naturally, as a gay man at peak physical performance, I will be your perfect gay guy, but who’s the other one?”

“Who d’ya think?” Frank asked, staring directly at Dennis. Dee followed his gaze, stifling a snort, whilst Charlie frowned, his eyes flickering from Mac to Dennis and then back again.

“Oh, no.” Dennis laughed, looking at the gang, “absolutely not. You want me to pretend to be  _ married _ ? And to  _ him?”  _ He gestured wildly at Mac, who glared at him.

“No, I want you to get married to him. For real.” Frank said solemnly.

“Charlie could do it?” Dennis said desperately, his face burning red,  “he could pretend to be gay, I’m sure! Charlie, bud? You could be gay, right?” 

“Not for  _ Mac!” _

_ “HEY!” _

He was defeated, with nowhere else to turn. Sure, he could suggest that Dee dresses up as a man, as she so often enjoys to do, and goes with Mac instead, but that could only end in disaster. They’d done it a million times before: to get couple’s discounts at restaurants, to run schemes, even once to get a joint doctor’s appointment. What was one more time?

“I’m not fucking doing it, Frank.” Dennis repeated, folding his arms. He refused to show weakness or back down when he had taken a stance.

  
  


They got married the next day. It was drizzling lightly, and Dennis could feel a sick tenseness in every muscle as he drove to the court; he couldn’t help but sneak little glances at Mac, who was humming along to the radio happily. He was wearing two colognes, Dennis realised with a smile, almost as though he’d dressed up for the occasion. His chest tightened again. The rain drilled down harder on the windshield. The radio played. Mac hummed.

When they arrived at the court and requested the documents, they were not met with the raised eyebrows Dennis had been expecting. There wasn’t even a hint of suspicion, no widening of the eyes when the receptionist realised they were together, no sniffing as they were handed their papers. It was almost disappointing for a scheme to be going this smoothly. There were two rings safely tucked away in his pocket and they felt red hot, as though they were burning a hole in his pants. Perhaps they were, perhaps this was a sign that he shouldn’t be doing this. He looked nervously around, and then put his hand in his pocket; his fingers found the rings and they were nothing but cold, lifeless metal. (Frank had been too cheap to fork out for real gold.)

Mac was soaking up all the attention and strutting around like a peacock, putting his arm around Dennis and thanking well-wishers.

“We’ve been lovers for twenty years,” he was telling one polite couple, “we wanted to tie the knot years ago but weddings are  _ so  _ expensive nowadays-” He was good, a little too convincing for Dennis’ taste. He brushed him off.

“C’mon, Mac,” he said, guiding him towards the door, “it’s getting late, the gang will probably be wondering where we are.”

Mac glared at him, allowing himself to be pulled outside into the rain. It had gotten heavier since they’d been inside, and the two of them stood in silence for a second, shocked as they were drenched by the torrential downpour. Dennis felt his curls flatten on his head, and frowned slightly; Mac’s hair looked fine, pasted down with an ocean of product as usual. He was looking up at the sky, letting his face soak in the cool rain.

“I don’t know about you,” he joked, “but I always wanted a summer wedding.”

Temper rising, Dennis pushed Mac aside slightly harder than was necessary and made his way towards the Range Rover, “We’re not  _ married _ married, Mac. A real marriage has big white dresses, and people getting pissed all over the place. We’re just… legally joined.”

“A marriage of convenience!” Mac said slowly, pointing at Dennis.

“No - well, yes, but do you even know what that means?”

Mac lifted his chin, “It’s when you get married because it’s convenient to you. I’m not a dumbass, I know things.”

“Yeah, sure - that’s right.” Dennis said, smiling slightly despite himself. “Now, c’mon, get into the goddamn car. I need a drink after all this.”

 

Apparently, the gang’s plan was to set up an impromptu reception to surprise them with when they arrived back at the bar. However, there were several flaws in the plan. The first flaw was that nobody could keep a goddamn secret, so Dennis had already been warned about the party by everyone involved, and the second flaw was that one five people were invited, and two of those people were the newlyweds. Sighing at the thought of what tortures awaited them, Dennis glanced over at Mac once again. He was staring out the window, lost in thought; or perhaps just watching the raindrops run down the window. A smile tugged at the corners of Dennis’ mouth, and he reached out to tap Mac’s shoulder as they pulled up outside the bar. The rings were still burning a hole in his pocket.

“Uh, shit dude, I still have the rings,” Dennis fumbled for them, knowing it would be less humiliating to put them on outside the bar than inside. He quickly produced two shiny, tacky rings. How could something so cheap cause him so much stress? He handed one to Mac as quickly as possible. “Here, put it on now.”

“Ehhh,” Scrunching up his nose, Mac watched as Dennis slipped the ring on, “which hand - and which finger do I put it on? Is it different for gay guys?”

“Jesus Christ, dude,” Dennis snatched the ring from Mac’s hand, “let me do it if you’re not gonna do it properly.” And so he took Mac’s hand in his own and slipped the ring gently onto his finger. 

“That looks right.” Mac said, examining the ring. Dennis snorted and rolled his eyes, opening the car door and getting out.

 

Mac followed him into the bar, where they’re met with drunken cheering and whooping. They’re all completely tanked already, and it’s going to be so, so much worse than Dennis first thought. The jukebox in the corner is playing an old song that Dennis can’t quite remember; the sound bleeds into the rest of the bar, but not loud enough to cut through the gang’s shouts.

“Mr and Mr,” Dee drawls, sloshing her beer as she gestures towards the two of them, “and old - old married couple.”

There are shots lined up on the counter, arranged in the shape of a heart. Very funny. The shot glasses are filled with some vile smelling pink liquid; Dennis downs one and shudders. Vodka, probably mixed with pink paint.

Someone taps him on the shoulder. It’s Mac, and he’s frowning.

“Did you know about this?” He hisses, looking nervously back at Frank and Charlie, who seem to be about to attempt something very dangerous and possibly illegal with the dartboard.

“Didn’t you?”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, dude. You need to tell me these things! I was caught completely off guard - as the sheriff of Paddy’s I need to be in the loop about-” Dennis, who had been taking shots throughout Mac’s entire spiel, cut him off by shushing him.

“Listen, I know we’re married and all,” he said, pulling a face as he thought about how much paint he’d probably just drank, “but that doesn’t mean we have to  _ act _ like an old bickering couple.”

Mac glared at him, but seemed to get the point. He subsided and leaned against the bar, looking disdainfully at the pink vodka. “Dude I can’t believe you drank that.” He said eventually, his forehead creasing.

“Me neither.” And suddenly the two of them were laughing together, just like always. The tension Dennis had been feeling earlier seemed to melt away. Of course this wouldn’t change anything; after all, they’d done this a million times before.

 

The party didn’t wind down until the early hours of the morning. Dee had passed out against the bar, perched precariously with a glass still in her hand. Frank and Charlie were having an intense discussion about sewers that Dennis couldn’t really understand, other than the obvious implication that they were very much in favour of crawling through them.

And then there was Mac and Dennis.

They’d started jokingly dancing together at around midnight, drunkenly waving their arms and jumping to the same few songs over and over. But as the party began to wind down, so did their dancing. They held onto each other, struggling to keep upright, barely moving their feet as an old, sad song crackled from the jukebox:

 

_ They say my wound will heal and only leave a scar _

_ But then, they’d never shared our love _


	2. lovers (live a little longer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Frank, hold on there just a moment,” Dennis raised his hand, sharing an inquisitive look with Mac, “you expect a man to donate millions of dollars to a sketchy charity of two gay guys he just met? That’s ludicrous, Frank!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“No, you’re missing one small detail,” Frank said._
> 
>  
> 
> _“And what is that?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The silence hung heavily in the air as Frank opened his mouth, “He loves gays.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i stayed up until 4am last night writing this because i'm a dumbass!! but i wanted to get this up before the gang makes a clipshow completely obliterates me and stops me from being able to type for a full calendar week so! enjoy

It wasn’t clear how they made it back to Dee’s house that night. All they knew was that they woke up to complete chaos. There was a hole in the kitchen wall that hadn’t been there before, and someone seemed to have been throwing eggs around.

“Dennis.” Mac said, standing in the middle of the apartment, dark circles forming bruise-like beneath his eyes, “what the  _ fuck. _ ”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Dennish brushed past him, wincing as his head began to throb, “I don’t remember shit.”

Sniffing, Mac folded his arms and sat down on the sofa, throwing an eggy pillow across the room with disgust, “I’m not cleaning this up.”

“No shit, dude, Dee can do it.”

The two of them shared smiles, both imagining Dee’s reaction to this news. She was still sleeping peacefully in the next room, an inch away from rolling off the bed. They looked at each other silently and for a second too long before breaking eye contact; Dennis opened the curtains to peek out of the window, groaning when he realised the Range Rover wasn’t outside. At least they hadn’t driven drunk.

“Mac, do you know how we got home?”

Mac leaned back on the sofa, pressing his palms to his face, “Dude, I don’t know I  _ totally  _ browned out; last thing I remember was Dee throwing a barstool at Charlie.”

Dennis tried to cast his mind back to the night before: he definitely remembered the barstool incident, Dee passing out, Charlie and Frank drunkenly scheming in the corner, and after that - after that. His blood ran cold. After that, he and Mac dancing slowly, clutching each other tightly; he remembered Mac’s breath hot on his neck, laughing as he stumbled. “Yeah,” he managed, trying to push away the memories, “that’s all I remember as well.”

Shaking his head, Mac stood up and joined Dennis at the window, “No car. At least we didn’t drink drive.” He said, shrugging.

 

Somehow, Charlie and Frank had made it to the bar first that morning. Charlie was sat with his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples, whilst Frank carried on about something or other, gesturing wildly.

“You two didn’t even go home, did you?” Dennis said with an accusatory glare, throwing Dee’s car keys down on the bar. He smiled, knowing she was going to be pissed when she woke up and found the car missing. In his defense, he  _ was  _ inadvertently delaying her hangover.

“Dude, we’ve been waiting for you  _ all _ day!” Charlie complained, “we thought you’d  _ died  _ or something, the three of you were, like, totally blacked out.”

“No, Charlie,” Mac said, folding his arms, “we were only  _ browned out _ , and even then I’m always completely alert and aware of my surroundings, ready to strike down any danger that crosses our path.” He waved his arms menacingly, looking up at Dennis for approval. Dennis said nothing, but patted his shoulder.

“Well, whatever, dude,” Charlie mumbled, clearly not convinced, “you should have just slept at the bar - unless you think you’re above us or something.”

Dennis could see that this had all the makings of a major argument, Mac had just about risen from his seat, nostrils flaring, when he decided to cut in, “Frank! Are we starting that scheme today or what? I’m sick of sleeping at Dee’s place, it’s gross. And it smells in there, it’s a lower tier to what Mac and I are used to -“

“Yeah, yeah-“ Frank grumbled, reaching into his pocket and fishing out a small piece of paper, “I have your application forms for this jerkwad’s favourite country club right here. What you’re gonna do is infiltrate it and make connections, tell everyone you’re poor as shit but love to help starving children. If you can pull this off you’ll be able to swindle  _ millions  _ out of this sucker!”

“Frank, hold on there just a moment,” Dennis raised his hand, sharing an inquisitive look with Mac, “you expect a man to donate millions of dollars to a sketchy charity of two gay guys he  _ just met?  _ That’s  _ ludicrous _ , Frank!”

“No, you’re missing one small detail,” Frank said.

“And what is that?”

The silence hung heavily in the air as Frank opened his mouth, “He loves gays.”

Dennis threw his hands up and scoffed, turning away from Frank. So this was it. He’d gotten married to his best friend for nothing; the scheme obviously wasn’t going to work, of course it wasn’t! Frank’s schemes never worked. He was just about to start screaming, his fists clenched so tightly that he felt his nails dig into his skin, when Mac put a light hand on his back and spoke to him quietly.

“Dude, Frank’s scheme is totally BS, you know that right?” He hissed.

“Yes, Mac, I think we all know that by now.”

“Well,” Mac drew in closer, his face now inches from Dennis’, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of conspiring, “how about we play him before he has a chance to play us, and put a whole new angle on this scheme?”

Suddenly very aware that Mac’s wedding ring was pressing into his back, Dennis swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” 

“What if we told the people at the country club that we were  _ philanthropists _ and accepted donations from them? These people must have  _ very  _ deep pockets, Dennis. And if we find that lawyer Frank was talking about, fuck it, we can accept donations from him as well! Screw Frank, the money will go  _ right  _ to us.”

Coming from Mac, the idea sounded extremely attractive. He was right, the last time he’d been at a country club the people there had been willing to pay  _ massive  _ amounts of money for the smallest of things. And, of course, screwing Frank over had always been his favourite pastime. He grinned at Mac, who smiled back.

“We’ll do it.” He announced, as they turned back to Frank in unison, “But you have to give us fifty percent of what you make of this scheme, Frank. As well as paying for all of our apartment costs.”

“Twenty.” Frank said.

“Done.” Mac said eagerly, leaping across the bar to shake Frank’s hand. He looked back at Dennis, who couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

Charlie, who had been silent throughout most of this exchange, suddenly piped up. “So… what role do I play?”

“Uh,” Dennis frowned, “how about, you’re the janitor at the bar where the two gay men work, and you clean the toilets whilst the two gay men are out enjoying themselves at their country club.”

“Can I-“ Charlie said, “can I do an accent?”

“No!” Dennis spluttered, “no accents, who would you be doing your accent for, anyway? We are  _ not  _ bringing our rich lawyer into this establishment!”

Charlie smiled, rolling a beer bottle between his hands, “I think I’m gonna do an accent.”

“ _ You are NOT going to-“ _

Quietly, Mac crept up next to Dennis and hissed at him, “Dude, just let him do an accent it’s simpler.”

“Welcome to me bar, laddies.” Charlie said, mostly to himself, “would you like a spot of tea?”

Nobody said anything for a while after that.

 

“Dude that was  _ so  _ easy, we didn’t even have to lie!” Mac said, leaning against the receptionist’s desk. He and Dennis were stood in the lobby of the country club, doing their very best to blend in. Dennis hadn’t had much trouble finding something to wear, throwing on an old polo shirt and a pair of shorts; Mac had had a few issues, considering his wardrobe consisted almost entirely of sleeveless shirts of various sizes. Eventually, Dennis had lent him an old, pastel coloured polo shirt - very similar to the one he had chosen. They really did look like a couple, with their matching clothes and matching rings. 

“That’s the beauty of this scheme, Mac,” Dennis said, gazing around the lobby, marvelling at how clean it was, “there’s no fake names, no accents, no disguises, just me, you and a bunch of rich idiots. We don’t even have to lie about being married because we  _ very  _ clearly are.” Mac looked at him sharply, and Dennis was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how his wording could have been interpreted. He held his hand next to Mac’s, so that their rings were almost touching to demonstrate what he meant.

“Dude,” Mac said, his voice suddenly serious, “can I just say I am  _ so  _ glad that you’re cool with-“

“Congratulations!” A cheery voice behind them cut Mac off, and they span around to see a young receptionist smiling up at them, “the two of you are now officially joint holders of an annual pass to Green Flowers Country Club! If you would like a complementary tour then I would be more than happy to give you one!”

Mac looked sullenly at Dennis, clearly annoyed about being cut off, but still waiting for Dennis to take the lead. That tightness in Dennis’ chest that had plagued him on their wedding day returned, and he took a few deep breaths before smiling sharply at the receptionist, “That would be  _ wonderful.”  _ He drew out the final word, his voice rising in pitch slightly. He gave Mac a warning glance, swallowed a lump in his throat, and took his husband’s hand.

 

“And that,” the receptionist said half an hour later, “concludes our tour! Do either of you have any questions?”

Having spent most of the tour nodding and smiling, the two of them were caught off guard at being addressed. Mac squeezed Dennis’ hand and Dennis resisted the urge to wince at how sweaty both of their palms had become. Still, he squeezed Mac’s hand gently in return, looking at him expectantly.

“Where do most people in this… establishment…” Mac paused, struggling to find a word.

“Congregate.” Dennis finished for him, watching Mac exhale with relief.

The receptionist smiled kindly, obviously endeared, and Dennis had to resist high fiving Mac: they had him fooled! “Well,” he started, “the bar is very popular during the evenings - and the garden is generally full during the weekend. I must say a Tuesday afternoon isn’t usually prime time for us, so we must seem awfully empty.”

Mac and Dennis laughed, and Dennis took that opportunity to unhook his hand from Mac’s and transfer it to his back, subtly wiping his sweat off onto his shirt; Mac either didn’t notice or didn’t care, he smiled at Dennis and said, “well, I’m sure we’ll make lots of connections here, right, Dennis?”

“Yeah.” Dennis smiled. “I’m sure we will.” 

 

They drove back to Dee’s place in a comfortable silence. Dennis had let Mac choose the station, and the battered radio was playing an old love song that Dennis only half remembered the lyrics to:

 

_ So, lovers live a little longer, baby _

_ You and me, we got a chance to live twice _

_ Lovers live a little longer, ain’t that nice _

 

It was cheesy, but upbeat enough that Mac and Dennis ended up bopping their heads in unison, smiling at each other when the song ended.

“Dude, can you believe we totally played that dumbass receptionist?” Mac said, “he  _ totally  _ believed we were a married couple.”

“First of all Mac,” Dennis said lightly, “we  _ are  _ married, but I  _ did  _ like that you used some very gay words back there. Very clever.”

Mac gasped and turned in his seat to face Dennis, “You noticed that? Because I  _ totally  _ thought calling things  _ ravishing  _ would help sell it - as you know I show  _ no  _ outward signs of being gay.”

“Oh, I noticed,” A smile tugged at Dennis’ lips, “you know, Mac, maybe this scheme was a good idea after all. No thanks to Frank, though. Has that old bastard texted you yet, by the way?”

Mac fumbled with his phone, frowning at it as he scanned the screen. “No but, uh, Dee’s sent me a shit ton of messages and she’s  _ pissed _ , dude.”

“Ah, shit.” Dennis gripped the steering wheel, “what’s her problem this time?”

“Dude.” Mac said. “She said she’s kicking us out of her apartment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this instalment's abba song was lovers (live a little longer) which is probably about being gay
> 
>  
> 
> _i just don't care if they're watching 'cause listen_  
>  we've got a reason for each time we're kissing
> 
>  
> 
> also mac and dennis' scheme being identical to franks isnt a mistake theyre just stupid thank u fr ur time


	3. super trouper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mac looked down at his feet, “I’m so bored Dennis, I thought we were gonna be, like, robbing this guy or something - not flirting with him!”_   
>  _“Flirting-” Dennis choked, “Mac, I was not flirting with him, I was charming him in order to get on his good side.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really thought i'd uploaded this already but apparently not! i hope u enjoy these idiots  
> also idk how accurate my portrayal of a country club is but i worked in one for 5 days one time, and i've seen high school musical 2 a million times so

“Dee, what the hell is going on?” Dennis burst into Dee’s apartment, only to get a garbage bag thrown at his face.

The apartment was a mess, Mac and Dennis’ belongings were strewn all over Dee’s living room, and the chaos of the night before still hadn’t been cleaned up.

Dee was wildly stuffing one of Mac’s shirts into a bag, muttering under her breath, “You two,” she said, her voice brimming with barely contained rage, “are moving  _ out.” _

“But, sis, our apartment won’t be ready for a few months at least - are you really gonna kick us out onto the street?” He picked up a bag of clothes, sneaking a worried glance at Mac, who had entered the apartment behind him, and was stood with his arms crossed.

“You can sleep in the bar, I don’t give a shit,” Dee said, “you know my landlord came over this morning - to find me asleep in my own  _ filth.  _ I’m getting  _ fined  _ because of you.”

“Well, Dee,” Mac cut in, “maybe if you weren’t such a lightweight and hadn’t drunk yourself into a coma you would have been awake and able to clean the apartment like you were supposed to.”

“What?” Dee looked murderous, “Mac, you  _ made  _ this mess. You don’t pay any fucking rent, you stole my  _ car  _ this morning. You know what -“ she tore the shirt she was holding and Dennis winced slightly, “Goddamn it, Goddamn  _ both of you.  _ Get your stuff and get  _ out _ . I want my apartment back - it’s your own fault you’ve managed to burn your own one down twice now.”

Though it was tempting to argue with her, Dennis saw that if he pushed Dee any further she would probably scratch his eyes out, and he didn’t want to ruin his high from running a successful scheme. So, meekly, he and Mac packed their few possessions into plastic bags, stealing a few of Dee’s things as they did so, out of spite. Mac caught Dennis’ eye as he snuck a pillow into his bag, and Dennis snorted. 

Just before they left, Dennis placed Dee’s car keys on the coffee table, as proof that he hadn’t wrecked her car this time. Maybe that would put him back in her good books.

 

It wasn’t the first time they’d had to sleep at the bar. The night Maureen had kicked them both out of their apartment, they’d made a makeshift bed out of blankets they found in the back office, sleeping side by side next to the pool table. Ironically, now that they were married, Dennis felt an inexplicable pang of fear at the thought of sleeping that close to Mac again. They’d been sharing a bed for almost a year now, but Dee had always been there as a buffer, both physically and emotionally.

And now here they were, alone together in the bar.

After packing up all their stuff they’d made a run to the store for supplies, making it almost midnight by the time they unpacked their bedding. Mac looked just as uncomfortable as Dennis, pretending to study the takeaway menu he’d been looking at for almost ten minutes now.

“Uh, buddy, how about one of us takes the chair in the back office?” Dennis tried, his voice sounding oddly stiff and tinny, “I’m sure it’s much more comfortable than the floor.”

“Sure, dude, do you want it?” Mac said, eyes still glued to the menu, “I’m fine on the floor.”

“No, you take it, we can take it in turns until we figure something else out.”

A look of alarm passed over Mac’s face, as though the gravity of the situation was only just occuring to him, “Dennis, I don’t wanna sleep the bar for more than a night, we  _ need  _ to find somewhere else.”

“Well, until we start swindling those country club assholes, we’re completely broke. I can’t even get us a hotel to sleep in, man.”

Mac’s eyes lit up, “ _ Dude _ ,  _ that’s it!” _ he said, leaping up, “we can sleep at the country club?”

“Huh.” Dennis thought about it for a second, tapping his fingers against the bar. It certainly was an option.

“Think about it, dude,” Mac’s voice was getting louder with every word, “we saw  _ so  _ many couches up there, and they have complimentary drinks, heating that actually works,  _ showers-“ _

Dennis’ mind trailed off, tuning Mac out. Of course the country club was the perfect place to stay, the only issue was whether he and Mac would be able to keep up the marriage facade well enough to spend an extended amount of time there. Granted, they would probably be able to find empty spaces where the two of them could relax with a drink, perhaps just sat a little too close together, to ward off friendly strangers.

“Let’s do it.” He said, slamming his palms down on the bar and turning around to grab an armful of trash bags, heading for the door.

“Wait,” Mac grabbed Dennis’ arm and Dennis stopped dead in his tracks, “dude, right now? It’s late as shit, we’d look suspicious. We can last a night here.” 

“You just said you didn’t want to sleep in the bar.” Dennis said suspiciously.

Rolling his eyes, Mac let go of Dennis and folded his arms across his chest, “Yeah, dude, but if we go now our  _ whole  _ cover will be blown and we’ll have to sleep in this bar  _ forever. _ So I can survive, like, one night here.”

“Fine.” Dennis dropped the bags on the floor, suddenly resenting Mac for interrupting his burst of energy, “but you have to sleep on the floor.”

“Fine by me.”

Dennis stalked into the back office, returning briefly a few moments later to grab a blanket, after remembering the real reason he and Mac had huddled together all those years ago: the bar was cold as shit at night.

 

“Dude, holy shit, I think that’s him!”

Mac had his arm around Dennis, and was smiling as he hissed in his ear. They’d arrived at the country club at around noon, after being thoroughly grilled by Frank about their mark. He was a philanthropist lawyer who specialised in human rights, and an avid wine taster; he was boring as shit, and sounded like a total pushover. Mac and Dennis had seen so many pictures of him that morning that they could easily pick him out in a crowd of thousands of people - luckily the club was almost empty today.

“Fuck, I think you’re right,” Dennis said, craning his neck. He smiled at Mac, pretending to laugh until Mac copied him. They really were naturals at this. 

“Can I get you two gentlemen anything else?” A bored looking waitress approached them, clearing away the beer bottles they’d already emptied. Dennis gave Mac a pointed look before smiling at the waitress, “No, thank you Ma’am, we’re doing just fine.” Mac forced a wide, slightly terrifying, smile, and the waitress quickly cleared off. Dennis sighed.

“Dude, we should go over and talk to him  _ now.”  _ Mac said, shifting in his chair.

The bar was relatively empty aside from the three of them; the lawyer was engaged in a conversation with a bartender, the conditions were ideal. “Okay.” Dennis said after some consideration, “but we need a game plan. We’ll both go up and introduce ourselves, let me do the talking - don’t speak unless he asks you a question. You’re not going to do an accent, are you?”

“ _ Dennis,”  _ Mac said, affronted, “clearly I’m not going to do an accent when I’m acting as  _ myself _ . That isn’t how acting works!”

“Okay great.” Dennis gritted his teeth, standing up, “remember, we’re married and very much in love.”

Mac mumbled something under his breath. It was almost impossible to make out, but Dennis was sure he said, “ _ how could I forget?” _

 

_ “Hello there!”  _ Dennis said, approaching the lawyer with an outstretched hand. He was playing the friendly, overly enthusiastic neighbour, “I’m Dennis Reynolds, and this is my  _ husband,  _ Ronald.” He smirked, feeling Mac’s glare boring a hole in his back.

“He’s joking,” Mac said, hanging back as Dennis shook the lawyer’s hand, “just call me Mac.”

Laughing, almost manically, Dennis put an apologetic hand on Mac’s arm and said “We only just joined the county club yesterday, and would you believe that we don’t know a single person here? So we just thought we’d come over and say hi.”

The lawyer smiled kindly at the two of them, extending a hand for Mac to shake. “My name’s Robin Church, it’s so nice to meet you, Mac and Dennis.” He let go of Mac’s hand, and Dennis noted that he didn’t surreptitiously wipe his hand on his trousers as most people would have. “It’s wonderful to have the two of you here, but why on earth would you join if you don’t know anyone?” 

Mac seemed to almost be bursting with the need to make fun of Robin’s formal speech pattern, and Dennis had to hold back his laughter. What era was this guy from? Nonetheless, Dennis dug his fingers into Mac’s arm as a warning, and drew his smile even wider. “Well, Robin, we’re just nuts about charity! We love helping poor people, children-“

“The homeless!”

“Yes, Mac, the homeless! We just  _ love  _ the homeless.” Dennis’ heart was beating a little faster than normal;  if they played their cards right maybe this would be even easier than they thought, “but, you see, we’ve fallen on some hard times, in fact, we got kicked out of our apartment this morning! Just kicked clean out of the damn thing, would you believe it?”

“Oh -“ Robin looked genuinely shocked, “that’s terrible, if I may ask, why did they-“

“Homophobia.” Dennis answered as Mac nodded solemnly, “pure, unadulterated homophobia, Robin! But we always land on our feet.”

A fleeting look of apprehension crossed Robin’s face, but he quickly covered it with a smile, “Can I get you boys a drink?”

 

The chairs in this bar were much nicer than the chairs at Paddy’s - Dennis found himself almost relaxed as the three of them sat in a corner. Nobody else disturbed them, and they were allowed to bond in peace. At some point, the kitchen staff must have turned a radio on in the back room, because the distant strains of music permeated their conversation:

 

_ The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive _

 

_ And when you take me in your arms and hold me tight _

 

_ I know it's gonna mean so much tonight _

 

Sadly, the drinks were not complementary, as Mac and Dennis had assumed they would be, however, Robin insisted on picking up their tab, dismissing Dennis’ protests with a kind smile. Dennis had turned his charm up to maximum, laughing wildly at every joke; Mac, on the other hand, was beginning to sour and sat in silence, drinking his beer with a frown.

“And  _ that _ ,” Robin was drunkenly telling Dennis, "is why I’m never going back to Nebraska.”

Once again, Dennis laughed, showing all of his teeth in a pointed smile. Mac shifted uncomfortably, nudging Dennis with his elbow. 

“Dennis,” he said through gritted teeth, “I need to talk to you about… business matters.”

Dennis blinked at Mac mock surprise, “Business matters, Mac? At a time like this?” he turned to Robin, smiling again, “you know he never turns off this one, do you Mac?” And he took Mac’s hand, clasping it a little tighter than was necessary. 

“It’s important, Dennis.”

The smile on Dennis’ face didn’t falter, but became slightly sharper as he stood up, pulling Mac to his feet as he did so, “Obviously this can’t wait, I’m sorry Robin,” he said, “we’ll be right back.”

 

“Dude,” Dennis said once they were out of Robin’s sight, dropping Mac’s hand as though it had been burning him, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

Mac looked down at his feet, “I’m  _ so bored  _ Dennis, I thought we were gonna be, like, robbing this guy or something - not flirting with him!”

“Flirting-” Dennis choked, “Mac, I was  _ not  _ flirting with him, I was charming him in order to get on his good side.”

Rolling his eyes, Mac took a step towards Dennis, “whatever dude, it’s still taking  _ forever _ ,” he paused, and then his eyes lit up slightly, “why don’t we ask him for money so we can sleep in a fancy hotel tonight! We can, like, tell him we don’t have anywhere to go and he’ll  _ totally  _ hook us up with something, dude. Think about it, it’ll be even classier than this place - these chairs are comfy but, Dennis, I don’t know if I could actually  _ sleep  _ here.”

“Hmm,” Dennis narrowed his eyes, “Mac, what I  _ think  _ you’re proposing is a kind of sugar daddy situation.”

“That’s exactly what I’m proposing dude!”

Dennis smiled, genuinely, “Mac, I love it. Let’s go scam this bitch.”

 

It must have been later than they thought, because by the time they got back to Robin he’d paid for their drinks and had his coat in his hands. The bartender, was cleaning glasses, looking at Mac and Dennis resentfully as they entered the bar.

“Sorry, boys,” Robin said, slurring his words slightly, “but it’s getting late, I don’t want to keep my wife up.”

Mac and Dennis exchanged glances, and Mac nodded slightly at Dennis, putting an arm securely around his shoulder. “Actually, Robin,” Dennis said, feigning embarrassment, “we were wondering if you knew any cheap hotels around here - we don’t exactly have a lot of money on hand and our only other option is to sleep in the car… Obviously none of us want that.” He looked solemnly at Mac, who returned his gaze with the saddest smile Dennis had ever seen, he almost had to bite his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

Robin didn’t speak for a moment, looking at the two of them with a look of deep concentration. “Well, I don’t know how well a nice couple such as yourselves would cut it at a cheap motel, why don’t you stay with me for a couple of nights, just whilst you figure something out?”

“Robin, that sounds  _ wonderful _ ,” Mac smiled.

“No!” Dennis said, a little too quickly, feeling Mac’s grip on his shoulder tighten, “I mean - we’ll have to discuss- it’s a big decision-” He pulled Mac aside.

“Dude, this is  _ brilliant,  _ we’re gonna be able to sleep in a straight up mansion whilst spongeing off this boner, it’s  _ perfect.” _

_ “ _ It’s not  _ ‘perfect’,  _ Mac,” Dennis hissed, “how long do you think it’ll be before we crack, huh? You remember the suburbs, right? This is going to be  _ ten  _ times worse.”

Mac rolled his eyes, “Quit being dramatic, dude, he already believes us! If we live with him we’ll be able to play him into donating money to all of our fake charities, or have you given up on the scheme already?”

“N-no, I’m still cool with the scheme,” Dennis said, sneaking a glance at Robin, who seemed to be calling for a taxi, “I just think we’re skating on thin ice, here.”

“Well I’m fine with it, dude, it’s your call.” Mac had somehow crept too close to him again, close enough for Dennis to feel his breath on his face; he was looking at Dennis earnestly, waiting for his verdict.

“Fine.” He threw his hands up in defeat.

Mac smiled at him brightly and clapped a hand on his back, “you won’t regret this, man.” He said, “this is gonna be the scheme that makes us rich.”

“Yeah,” Dennis smiled weakly.

 

And suddenly they were sat together in the back of a taxi, knocking elbows as Robin drunkenly ranted about one of his cases. The city whizzed by as the taxi took them out of the center of town, and into one of the nicer neighborhoods in Philly.

Robin’s house wasn’t as grand as Mac and Dennis had assumed it would be. Having grown up in a mansion, Dennis was less than impressed with the lawyer’s cosy looking house, but Mac was smiling widely, obviously starry-eyed. He helped Dennis out of the car, whispering excitedly; Dennis smiled at him, almost grateful for his enthusiasm.

There was a faint glow of light emanating from the windows as they approached the house - and Dennis could have sworn he saw a curtain twitch. 

“Looks like Hannahs still awake,” Robin muttered to himself, leaning against the front door and searching for his keys. It took him a little longer than it should have to open the door, and he almost dropped the keys several times - Dennis felt his fists clench, his breathing still slightly heavier than it should have been.

The door swung open, presenting them with a neat, well-lit foyer. Mac and Dennis exchanged glances for a split second before walking forward together into unknown territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's abba song was super trouper _(lights are gonna find me // shining like the sun // SUP-PER TROUP-PER)_
> 
> i didnt proofread this sorry for the mistakes but i trust 3am me more than i trust 5pm me


	4. honey honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Mac, I think we might be in a little over our heads here.”_  
>  “But I thought you liked this kinda thing, Dennis! You were always talking about stealing other people’s skin and getting off on it - that’s exactly what we’re doing! Maybe now that I’m gay I’ll be able to get off too!”  
> “Mac, first of all, that is not what I meant by that - at all!” Dennis scowled, “second of all, you’ve always been gay, you just wouldn’t admit it.”  
> "Huh." Mac said, mirroring Dennis' scowl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay sorry for the wait but i FINALLY finished this chapter........ i've been putting it off for ages and i was originally gonna finish it as soon as s13 ended but, honestly, i only just got over mfhp so!
> 
> anway enjoy! there are no trigger warnings fr this ep!

Robin had been right; Hannah, his wife, was awake and waiting for them. She was in a surprisingly good mood, considering her husband had brought home two strangers; it was only a matter of minutes before the three of them were sat around the kitchen table, knocking back large glasses of water. Robin was starting to sober up, which was potentially worrying - had he only offered to let them stay because he was drunk?

“Mrs Church,” Dennis said, flashing one of his sharp and dangerous smiles, “I’m sorry but Mac and I have had quite a day, would it be alright if we turned in for the night?” In his defence, he was only half lying; Mac’s eyes had begun to droop slightly and he was leaning heavily against the kitchen counter beside Dennis - evidently neither of them had slept well the night before.

Hannah smiled, and clapped her hands together, “Oh, of course, hon,” she said, “I’ll make you up a bed and Robin can lend you some pyjamas, right sweetie?”

Robin nodded absently, taking another sip of water. On the verge of dozing off, Mac put his head in his hands and Dennis patted his back instinctively, a pit beginning to form in his stomach. A bed, singular.  _ That  _ was something that hadn’t occurred to him.

He cursed Mac under his breath, his hand still firmly placed on his back. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, trying to reason with himself; maybe it would be a big bed, or maybe there would be a couch in the bedroom, one big enough for him to sleep on.

 

There was no couch.

Dennis and Mac stood, staring, at the bed in front of them. It wasn’t the smallest bed they’d ever seen, in fact, it was probably around the same size as Dennis’ old bed, the one that he’d lost in the fire. And, of course, he’d shared that bed before - he’d even shared it with Mac on multiple occasions. But things had changed.

“So, dude,” Mac ventured, “which side do you want?”

“Which side?” Dennis spluttered, “Mac- I don’t give a  _ shit _ about which side I lie on!”

Mac surveyed the bed for a second, lost in thought. He looked smaller than usual with Robin’s oversized pyjamas hanging off of him, Dennis fought back a smile at how his fingers barely poked out the ends of the sleeves. Finally, he seemed to make a decision; “I want the side closest to the door - if anyone comes in and tries to attack us I’ll be able to jump up and deliver a swift karate kick to the dick. It’ll be  _ so  _ badass, dude!” He gave a quick example, smiling eagerly at Dennis.

Dennis didn’t smile back. Instead, he glared and sat down on the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. After a night on the old chair in the back office, and a year of squishing into a bed with three other people, the idea of having a little space was inviting. But sleeping next to Mac? It was weird. He couldn’t put his finger on quite why, but there was something inexplicably terrifying about the idea.

Seeing that Dennis was unhappy, Mac’s face fell a little. “Dude,” he said, “don’t worry, you  _ know  _ nobody can get past me.”

There was something almost endearing about Mac’s willingness to protect him; Dennis suppressed a smile before shaking his head slightly, “Mac, I think we might be in a little over our heads here.”

“But I thought you liked this kinda thing, Dennis! You were always talking about stealing other people’s skin and getting off on it - that’s exactly what we’re doing! Maybe now that I’m gay I’ll be able to get off too!”

“Mac, first of all, that is  _ not  _ what I meant by that - at all!” Dennis scowled, “second of all, you’ve always been gay, you just wouldn’t admit it.”

“Huh.” Mac said, mirroring Dennis’ scowl. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight, looking at the bed. “Then why are you suddenly afraid to sleep with me, Dennis?”

“What?”

“Dude, you’ve been acting  _ so  _ weird since I came out, it’s like you’re uncomfortable or something! We used to sleep in the same bed all the time, bro, it was fun, in fact I’m pretty sure  _ you  _ were always the one knocking on my bedroom door  _ begging  _ to sleep with me because you didn’t want to share a bed with the chick you’d just banged.”

Mac finished his speech with an angry huff, his hands planted firmly on his hips. Dennis didn’t reply, or rather, he couldn’t; his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. Instead he shrugged and climbed into the bed, burying himself deep beneath the covers and squeezing his eyes shut. Mac didn’t move for a moment, but before long Dennis felt him climb into bed next to him, and heard the click of the light. The two of them were not close together, but they were not far apart either - both occupying as little of each other’s space as was possible.

“Goodnight, dude.” Mac’s whisper carried through the darkness and almost made Dennis jump out of his skin.

“‘Night.” He replied, after a moment’s hesitation.

 

The next morning was dull and wet, but Dennis felt surprisingly refreshed. He’d slept well that night, finding Mac’s snores to be more comforting than they were annoying. They’d woken up a comfortable distance apart, and the argument about the bed seemed to have been forgotten. Starving, and ever so slightly hungover, the two of them decided that Robin would be okay if they raided his fridge; they  _ were  _ his guests, after all.

Mac was quick to start rambling about a dream he’d had as he cracked eggs into a bowl, whipping them so carelessly that they spilled onto the kitchen counter; Dennis watched him, sipping a black coffee and slouching against the breakfast bar.

“So, what’s our game plan, dude?” Mac asked, pausing momentarily to lick some egg off his thumb.

Feeling slightly more optimistic than he had the night before, Dennis wracked his brains, “First of all, we need to get all our stuff from the bar. I don’t wanna wear this dude’s clothes for any longer than I have to.”

Mac nodded, turning away from Dennis as he struggled with the stove, “and we don’t want him to know we’re going to the bar, right? Because that would totally blow our cover.”

“No.” Dennis said, taking a sip of coffee, “we’ll tell him we’re going to the bar, but he doesn’t need to know that we  _ work _ there. Think about it, Mac, if we tell him that everyone at the bar is, oh, I don’t know, fresh out of prison or something, he’ll be  _ sure  _ to take us more seriously as philanthropists.”

“Dude!” Mac spun around, smiling widely, “that’s genius! I can’t believe you just thought of that off the top of your hea- oh shit!” His eggs were burning, a plume of black smoke beginning to rise from the frying pan.

Rolling his eyes, Dennis put his coffee down and joined Mac at the stove, brushing him aside and snatching the a spatula from his hand. Somehow, he managed the salvage the remains of Mac’s eggs, and dumped them unceremoniously on a plate. “Not even married a week and I’m already cooking for you.” He said, thrusting the plate into Mac’s hands.

“Dude, I’m a  _ way  _ better cook than you, I just got distracted! And if I’d been able to practice instead of eating takeout at Dee’s every day for the past year, you  _ know  _ I’d be able to cook more better than you.” Mac pouted as he shovelled egg into his mouth.

Dennis raised an eyebrow. “Really?” 

 

Half an hour, twenty eggs, and a carton of milk later, Mac and Dennis were sat on opposite sides of Robin’s dining table, glaring at each other. Between them were two large plates of pancakes, one heaped with every sugary substance imaginable, and the other with a small handful of blueberries scattered on top.

“First of all, bro, mine look  _ so _ much better.” Mac said, wrinkling his nose as he looked at the blueberry pancakes. 

Dennis scowled, “Yeah, well, at least mine won’t give me diabetes, dude,” he raised his hand, silencing Mac’s scoff, “but, naturally, we’re going to be biased towards our own creations. We need to try and find a way of judging these objectively, Mac.”

There was a moment of silence as Mac and Dennis stared at each other, deep in thought. After some time, Mac leant across the table and began to cut the pancakes into small pieces, smiling as he did so. “Okay, dude, I have an idea. Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes, dude! C’mon!” Mac said impatiently, “if you can’t see which pancake you’re eating, then there’s no  _ way  _ you’ll be biased. Trust me.”

Dennis grumbled slightly, but closed his eyes and leant forward, his mouth slightly open. He was suddenly aware of how quiet the room was; he could hear Mac breathing, and heard his chair scrape slightly as his chair moved forward. A light hand rested on his arm as Mac clumsily fed him the pancake. It was disgusting; so sweet that Dennis thought he was going to vomit, his teeth already ached from the sugar. But as he opened his mouth to spit it out in disgust and complain, he felt a tightness in his chest, the same tightness that he’d felt as he’d slipped the ring on Mac’s finger only a couple of days ago. He knew what the feeling meant, but he couldn’t begin to analyse it right now, not today. Instead, he pushed it down deep and ignored it.

“Wow, dude,” he managed to choke out, swallowing quickly and opening his eyes, “these are delicious!”

Mac grinned with an almost uncontainable glee, “really?”

“Yeah!” Dennis took a large swig of coffee, “uh, should I try the other ones?” He eyes his blueberry pancakes with apprehension.

They repeated the charade, except this time Dennis peeked at Mac from beneath his eyelashes. Mac was smiling brightly, and with a hint of softness, as he leant towards him. 

Just as the fork was about to reach Dennis’ mouth, a quiet voice pierced the silence, “you two are just  _ so  _ sweet!”

Dennis jumped backwards, his face flushing. Hannah was stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes still clouded with sleep. There was a smile on her face that Dennis couldn’t quite read, but that he took for some kind of patronising pity.

Mac retracted his hand and turned around to smile bashfully at her. “We thought we should get some breakfast before picking our stuff up from the bar- ah!” Dennis had kicked him under the table.

“What Mac  _ means  _ to say, Mrs Church,” Dennis said, reaching for Mac’s hand and squeezing it tightly, “is that we have a few things that we’ll need to sort out today, business matters, charity work - just regular stuff.” He forced a wild laugh.

Mac grinned at him and winked, and Dennis had to resist rolling his eyes. Hannah seemed thoughrily taken in by them, however, and was still smiling as she approached the dining table.

“Can I try some?” She asked, motioning towards the pancakes.

“Sure!” Mac pushed them towards her excitedly, “Dennis said mine were delicious and he, like,  _ never _ compliments my cooking so you know he’s telling the truth.”

Once again, he pushed his pancakes towards Hannah, and Dennis grimaced as he watched her pick up a fork and daintily put a small piece in her mouth. Her face soured and, for the same inexplicable reason that he hadn’t had the heart to tell Mac his pancakes sucked, Dennis felt himself bristle.

“Oh -” Hannah said after swallowing, “well, they’re-”

“Delicious.” Dennis said firmly, gripping Mac’s hand, “they’re delicious.”

 

Robin insisted on driving Mac and Dennis to the bar to help them collect their belongings. Dennis had managed to spin some tale about the bar belonging to a friend who owed them a favour, “every member of staff at Paddy’s was homeless before we helped them back on their feet,” he told Robin from the back seat of his car, where he was sat next to a nervous Mac, “everyone there idolises us but, well, we were just happy that we could help such low, impoverished people.”

“Yeah!” Mac chimed in, “if we hadn’t helped them they’d be, like, dead.”

Robin laughed quietly, pulling around the corner and getting his first view of Paddy’s, “Is this it, boys? It’s very-”

“Classy?” Dennis said, “yes, well Paddy’s  _ is  _ a fine establishment, though I think that’s due more to us than it is to them, we have a lot of influence in what goes on around here, there’s nothing we don’t know that goes on in this bar.”

 

Dee, Charlie and Frank had transformed the bar overnight. There were bright lights hanging from the ceiling, and a dozen chairs lined up in front of a shiny new projector. Mac and Dennis stopped dead in their tracks, dazed as they tried to take everything in. It was like walking into an office when you’d meant to step into, well, a bar.

“Welcome,” Dee said, in a surprisingly good British accent, “sit yourselves down and have a drink, it’s a pleasure to have you gentlemen in again so soon. And, ah, you’ve brought a mate!” She ushered the three of them into the chairs and gave a covert thumbs up to Frank, who was lurking in the shadows.

“Gentlemen,” he said, also doing a British accent, “I hope you will, ah, forgive my  _ impromptu _ speech, but we have a problem in Philadelphia. And that problem… is children.”

Dennis shifted, whispering to Mac, “dude, what the  _ fuck  _ is going on? He’s going to ruin our scheme!” Mac shook his head nervously, his eyes wide with confusion.

“-and some of them can’t even read or write because their deadbeat parents never fed them vegetables!” Frank was still droning on, his accent getting less and less consistent the longer he talked.

Mac leant in towards Dennis, so close that their cheeks were touching, and whispered in his ear, “do you think this is a part of Frank’s plan? Maybe he knows what he’s doing!”

Mac’s breath on Dennis’ neck made it impossible for him to think. Instead, he shook his head lightly and pulled away, looking at Robin to try and gauge his reaction. He seemed as though he was holding back laughter, though there was a hint of nervousness in the stiff way he held himself. Without listening to what Frank was saying, Dennis guessed it was either deeply confusing or deeply offensive, most likely it was a healthy mix of both.

“To conclude, my dear gentlemen,” Frank was saying, “donatin’ to this new charity would  _ deeply  _ benefit every child in Philadelphia, even the dumb ones.”

Robin clapped, tentatively, and Mac joined in, nudging Dennis to do the same. Dennis refused, crossing his arms and sinking down in his seat, glaring at Frank with as much fury as he could muster, but Frank didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, I’ll certainly think about donating, though I’m not sure I’m your target audience.” Robin said jovially, walking forward to shake Frank’s hand, “I agree that it’s important to help the children of Philly, they  _ are  _ our future, after all.”

Mac caught Dennis’ eye and grinned at him and Dennis felt himself relax slightly - maybe this scheme wasn’t going to be a disaster after all. “Yeah, we’re both in.” Dennis said, with little enthusiasm.

“Now, of course, we’ll need a picture of the three of you to promote our campaign,” Frank said, and there was a slight quality to his voice that made Dennis recoil. He had something up his sleeve and it wasn’t anything Dennis wanted to be a part of.

“I hope I haven’t been presumptuous in hiring a photographer for today,” Frank said, and it was obvious now that he could barely contain his glee, “Charlie, come on out here!” He called, and Charlie stumbled into the bar from the back office, carrying a huge camera.

“How’dya do, I am your photographer.” Charlie wasn’t doing an accent, though he was obviously playing some kind of character. Dennis looked up at the ceiling and prayed for it to cave in, this situation couldn’t go anywhere good.

Robin was shaking Charlie’s hand as Charlie explained to him that he’d retired early from law to pursue his dream of being a photographer. Seeing that Robin was genuinely interested in Charlie, Dennis took the chance to confront Frank.

“What the fuck, man?” Dennis hissed, and he sensed Mac crossing his arms defensively beside him.

Frank was grinning, “Just trust me on this, Dennis, you’re going to make a  _ boatload  _ off this jerkoff, he’s gullible as shit! Look at him!” He motioned towards Robin, who was being given a detailed explanation on the workings of Charlie’s camera, “he’s already agreed to work with us, all you have to do is smile and be a good, clean couple for a few weeks until our ‘charity fundraiser’ then we pocket the money and he’s none the wiser. It’s foolproof!”

“It does seem pretty easy, Dennis.” Mac chimed in.

Sighing, Dennis threw his hands up, “Fine! But if this goes wrong, we still get our apartment fixed up  _ and  _ you pay us for our time.”

“Deal.” Frank said solemnly, “and  _ now  _ it’s time for the photoshoot,” he winked at Mac and Dennis before turning to Robin and Charlie.

Charlie pumped the air with his fist and scurried towards the back of the bar. With some reluctance, Dennis followed him, grabbing Mac’s hand as he did so. 

Where the pool table usually stood, there was a large white screen, surrounded by a number of bright lights. The moment they stood in front of the screen, Charlie started barking instructions at them.

“You two!” He said, pointing at Mac and Dennis, “stand closer together, I need to feel the  _ love  _ here, do you know what I mean when I say  _ love?  _ Love  _ sells!”  _ Frank had obviously put him up to this.

“Maybe we should show him our marriage certificates whilst we’re at it.” Dennis grumbled as Charlie continued ranting, halfheartedly putting an arm around Mac. The rumble of laughter in Mac’s chest was enough to soothe him, and he relaxed against as Charlie continued to rant and take photographs. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he noticed Dee glaring at him, but when he turned to look for her she was nowhere to be seen.

 

Charlie wouldn’t let them see the pictures after the photoshoot. “They need time to develop.” He’d said, and when Dennis had pointed out that he’d taken them with a digital camera, he’d simply rolled his eyes and scoffed, as though Dennis had said something stupid.

“Shall we get out of here?” He asked Mac, who’d started folding clothes and putting them in boxes, “we can wait for Robin outside with our shit.”

“Sure, dude, could you help me with these?” And together they brought what was left of their personal belongings outside. Seeing their entire life packed up in cardboard boxes pulled at Dennis’ heart a little, it didn’t seem long ago that he and Mac had had their own apartment, filled with useless shit that they’d held onto for no other reason than they  _ could. _

Dennis leant against the cold brick of the bar and sighed, looking at Mac out of the corner of his eye. “Dude,” he said, eventually, “do you really think we can keep this up?”

“Keep what up?” Mac asked, his eyes fixed firmly on the boxes at his feet.

“ _ This _ ,” Dennis said, pausing slightly to take a deep breath, “like, what if he catches on that something isn’t right. What if he’s suspicious because we don’t kiss or-,”

Mac sighed. “Frank said that it would only be a few weeks. And if we do this, he’ll pay to refurbish our apartment, frankly we can’t  _ afford  _ to not be able to keep this up.”

“Yeah but-”

Before Dennis could come up with a rebuttal, Robin left the bar, shouting goodbyes over his shoulder. He was carrying one of Mac and Dennis’ boxes under his arm, and looked smiled when he saw the two of them standing on the curb.

“I thought I’d help you out a little!” He said, showing them the box, before unlocking his car and placing it delicately in the boot, motioning for Mac and Dennis to do the same with the rest of their boxes. “I wasn’t expecting your friends to be quite so… forward but, in all honesty, I think they have a good business model - and I’m always up for helping the youth of Philadelphia!”

He got in the front seat of the car, and started the engine, turning on the radio and fiddling with the knobs. Mac and Dennis exchanged a glance, both biting back laughter. 

“Dude, maybe Frank was right.” Dennis said quietly, “this guy is gullible as  _ shit _ .”

 

Mac and Dennis were both silent on the way back to Robin’s house, Dennis was watching Mac, desperate to know what he was thinking about. There was a slight crease of concentration in his forehead, and he was absentmindedly running his thumb into Dennis’ palm. Robin didn’t notice their silence, and instead turned the radio up to full volume, singing loudly along:

 

_ But I'm gonna stick to you, boy, you'll never get rid of me, _

 

_ there's no other place in this world where I rather would be. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's abba song was honey honey! 
> 
> (i almost forgot to put it in rip) 
> 
> uhhh so dennis is ignoring his feelings fr mac and im P sure smth is gonna happen next chapter. not saying what but. something is gonna happen!


	5. gonna sing you my lovesong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Dennis,” Mac said pointedly, “did you remember to book a table for tomorrow?”_   
>  _All eyes were now on Dennis, and he’d never wanted the floor to swallow him up as badly as he did right now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back! i think it's been about two months since i last uploaded, oops! i don't really have an excuse fkjdhsfkjsf
> 
> no particular trigger warnings for this chapter! some mild mentions of alcoholism, but that's about it

They were having dinner on their third night at Robin’s house when a horrible thought suddenly hit Dennis.

“Hey, Robin,” he said, side-eyeing Mac nervously, “do you know what the date is today?”

“Uh, the 22nd, why?”

Mac put his fork down with an audible  _ clunk _ , and Dennis resisted the urge to crawl under the table and die. He cursed Frank, and Mac and anyone else who’d contributed to the events leading up to this situation.

“Dennis,” Mac said pointedly, “did you remember to book a table for tomorrow?”

All eyes were now on Dennis, and he’d never wanted the floor to swallow him up as badly as he did right now. Their monthly dinners had become, in many ways, sacred; whether they were in the middle of an argument, or Dennis was having an episode, they’d always find the time to grab dinner at a nice restaurant. With a start, Dennis realised that this would also be their first night out with openly gay Mac, who now had yet another reason to accuse him of being a homophobe.

“Well,” and the look in Mac’s eyes made his mouth go dry, “we’ve had a lot going on, buddy. It slipped my mind, you know? We can have two dinner nights next month?”  _ Please don’t cause a scene,  _ he pleaded silently,  _ please don’t blow our cover over something as insignificant as this _ . 

Mac seemed to understand, he sat back in his chair and folded his arms, his lips tightly pursed. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Next month.”

They continued to eat in an icy silence, the food suddenly cardboard in Dennis’ mouth. Robin kept clearing his throat, as though he was about to say something, but he stayed silent. In the end, it was Hannah who broke the silence:

“You know,” she said, “Robin and I have been meaning to have a date night for a while now, I’m sure we could get an emergency reservation somewhere nice, we know how important traditions are.” She placed her hand on top of Robin’s; he started and nodded profusely, smiling.

“I have a few favours to call in, I know a lovely Italian place we could go.”

Dennis smiled stiffly, “Ah, we’d love that! That would be just  _ great _ , wouldn’t it, Mac?” 

Mac nodded slowly, but not before Dennis had kicked him under the table.

“That’s settled, then!” Hannah smiled and clapped her hands together gleefully. If he hadn’t known better, Dennis could have sworn he saw a hint of malice in her eyes.

 

“Dude, they’re  _ totally _ on to us!” Dennis said as soon as he and Mac were alone. They’d excused themselves early, and in a way that they hoped didn’t imply that they were going to do anything but get an early night.

Mac ignored him and started changing into his pyjamas.

“Did you see the look Robin’s wife gave us? She thinks we’re gonna crack at this dinner, she  _ knows,  _ Mac!” He continued, turning around, suddenly shy in the presence of a half-naked Mac.

“Dennis, I’ve gotta know,” Mac said quietly, “did you, like,  _ actually  _ forget to book, or-”

“Hey, man,” Dennis said, holding his hands out in a sign of peace that would have worked better had he been facing the other way, “you know how much I love our monthly dinners, I’d never blow it off on purpose.”

“I just don’t understand, Dennis,” his voice was low now, thick with sadness, “it would have been our ten year anniversary of doing this, man. Or did you ‘forget’ that, as well?”

Dennis saw red. He opened his mouth and whipped around, suddenly raging; it was one thing to scold him for being forgetful but - “anniversary? Jesus, Mac! We’re not a fucking couple! I forgot one dinner reservation, so what? It’s just a  _ meal _ ! It means nothing to me!” The last few words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he had no choice but to remember their last monthly dinner. How it had felt as though he and Mac were the only people in the restaurant, how they’d gotten too drunk and stumbled home together, arm in arm. And how, the morning after, the reminder reading ‘RESERVE DINNER (repeat monthly)’ was mysteriously missing from Dennis’ phone.

Mac was staring at Dennis. “I see.” He said. But he very clearly didn’t see.

“Mac-”

“Dude, I get it, okay? Jesus-” 

Mac stormed into their ensuite bathroom, slamming the door behind him; he left it unlocked, which Dennis took as an open invitation to follow him and apologise. Instead of doing that, Dennis threw himself down on the bed and buried himself in a pillow in a futile attempt to suppress a scream. He lay there for what seemed like hours, popping bubbles of emotion as they surfaced; he was cold, he was emotionless, he… could hear Mac crying.

In the decades they’d spent joined at the hip, Dennis had seen Mac cry a total of two times - he’d mentally ranked both of those times as two of the worst moments of his life. Fearful, Dennis leapt up and rushed into the bathroom, where Mac was sat on the edge of the bath, glumly examining a bottle of shampoo. His face was dry.

“What do you want, Dennis?” He snapped, keeping his eyes fixed on the bottle.

“I-” Dennis faltered slightly, “I thought- were you crying just now?”

“Crying? No way, man!” Mac folded his arms and eyed Dennis suspiciously, “were you?”

Catching a glimpse of his own tousled hair and bloodshot eyes in the mirror, Dennis turned red, “No! I just thought, well, I wanted to say sorry. I got pissed off and I guess I was maybe a bit of a dick and-”

“It’s fine.”

“Look, man. I know this dinner meant a lot to you - to us. But we’re gonna have a shitton of spare cash once we finish this scheme, right? Well, let me take you up to New York! It’ll be totally sweet! We can go to a nice restaurant and stay in a decent hotel and…” Dennis trailed off, unsure of what he was saying.

“Really?” Mac’s voice had pitched several octaves, and his whole face had lit up. He rushed forward to hug Dennis, wrapping his arms around him with a bone-crushing force and burying his face in his shoulder. Dennis didn’t even have time to protest before Mac had stepped back, flushed and grinning.

“Dennis I… I don’t know what to say, dude!”

“You don’t need to say anything, man.”

 

Later that night, their argument forgotten, the two of them lay side by side in bed, trying to sleep. Into the darkness, almost to himself, Mac whispered, “why did you think I was crying earlier?”

Dennis almost didn’t answer, but eventually whispered back, “I thought I heard you.”

“Was that like one of those times where your brain plays tricks on you?”

A few seconds passed. “Yeah.”

Dennis heard Mac roll over, and then felt Mac’s rough, familiar fingers intertwine with his own. They stayed like that for a while, before Dennis found himself drifting into an easy, dreamless sleep.

 

“This restaurant has the best fish in all of Philadelphia!” Robin said, sipping wine proudly. He, Hannah, Mac and Dennis were sat in a restaurant that was suspiciously similar to Guigino's - the only difference between the two was that this one seemed to be slightly more upscale. Robin had insisted on paying for everything, which Mac had taken as an open invitation to order the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu and chug a whole glass of it without taking a breath, much to the waiter's horror.

Dennis hadn't had time to chastise him on his table manners like he usually would have, he was too busy glaring at Frank and Dee, who had just sat down on the other side of the restaurant.

“Aren’t those your friends from the other day?” Robin asked, giving them a little wave.

“No!” Dennis said, a little too quickly. 

Robin raised an eyebrow and took a sip of wine, whilst Hannah smiled slightly, as though she was biting back a laugh. Mac stood up, his chair making a sound loud enough to draw the entire restaurant’s attention to their table.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” He said bluntly, “and Dennis needs to come with me because, uh-”

“Because of his fear of locks! You know, Robin, Mac can never be in a locked room, not even a cubicle! I’ve always gotta guard the door for him.” Dennis scrambled up, still rambling as he grabbed Mac’s hand and pulled him towards the bathroom, glaring at Frank and Dee as they passed them.

 

“Shit, dude!” Mac said as soon as they were safely in the bathroom, “what are they doing here? They’re totally gonna blow this!”

“They’re absolutely gonna blow this! I say we go back out there, say you’re feeling ill and just go  _ home.” _

“But  _ Dennis _ , what about our dinner! We can’t just leave-”

Dennis never got to hear the end of Mac's sentence, as the bathroom door crashed behind them; before he knew what he was doing he'd shoved Mac into a cubicle and was pressing a hand against his mouth to keep him from shouting.

“Hello?” A familiar voice called out, “guys?”

Dennis relaxed, lowering his hand from Mac’s face and letting it rest on his chest, “Charlie?”

Charlie poked his head underneath the cubicle door and squinted at the two of them, “Are you… uh? What are you doing?”

“Hiding, dude.” Mac said, frowning, “you scared the  _ shit _ out of us.”

“Uh, sure. Can we talk outside I’m, like, on the floor out here.”

Rolling his eyes and sharing a look with Mac, Dennis unlocked the cubicle door and stalked outside, leaning against the sinks and shooting Charlie with a cold stare. “What are you doing here, Charlie?” Mac asked, following Dennis out of the cubicle and standing next to him.

“Dude, it’s all part of Frank’s plan don’t worry - it’s  _ foolproof. _ You know how you and Mac are totally alcoholics? Well, we’re going to be spiking your drinks.”

“You’re spiking our drinks?” Mac yelled, “Charlie, what the hell, why?”

“Because you’re  _ alcoholics.” _

“ _ AND?”  _

Charlie rolled his eyes and sighed, “ _ because  _ you’re alcoholics, and if you drink the same amount of wine as that lawyer bitch he’ll know something’s up! Your alcohol tolerance is way too high.”

“He has a point, Mac.” Dennis said, eyeing Charlie suspiciously, “you just gonna put shots in it, buddy? How’s this gonna work?”

Charlie reached into his jacket and produced a bottle of vodka, chuckling ominously. Mac and Dennis shared a look. They both knew that the night was about to get very, very messy.

 

The most expensive items on the menu are, often, not the best items on the menu. Mac learnt this the hard way, poking miserably at his gourmet meal. 

“Dude, what is this?” He murmured quietly to Dennis, pointing at a slimy pile on the corner of his plate.

“Aw, man, I have no idea - maybe it's snails?” 

Mac blanched and put his fork down. “Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ-” he mumbled, taking a squig of his vodka-laced wine. Dennis bit back a smile at the hidden grimace that showed on Mac's face as the drink hit his taste buds, watching his mouth and throat intently as he swallowed. Dennis caught himself staring and tore his eyes away; he chugged his own glass of vodka-wine, wincing as it hit him. At least he wouldn't have to get through this night completely sober.

Robin was smiling at the two of them, a little too intently for Dennis’ liking, “so how did you two meet?” He asked, leaning forward.

Sneaking a sideways glance at Mac, who was still poking suspiciously at his food, Dennis picked up a large piece of lettuce and began to tear it between his fingers, “Well, Robin, I guess you could call us highschool sweethearts,” he said, laughing nervously, “he was cutting class and smoking behind the bleachers and I was trying to find someone to buy from-”

“-candy, he wanted to buy candy-” Mac interjected quickly, his mouth full.

“-yeah,  _ candy.  _ Anyway, I'd heard Mac was selling candy behind the bleachers and when I saw him there, smoking, I just thought he was the most beautiful person I'd ever laid eyes on.”

“And then I sold you like half a bag of candy for $100, because you were an idiot rich kid!”

Dennis laughed softly, “I knew it was a stupid price, I just didn't give a shit back then.”

“Dumbass.” Mac smiled.

Robin ordered another bottle of wine.

 

“And  _ then,”  _ Five glasses of vodka-wine later, and Dennis’ lips were as loose as his tongue was heavy, “he fell and the spaghetti went  _ everywhere -  _ it was  _ amazing!” _

_ “ _ I saw it, the spaghetti was all over the fucking floor and the, uh, the… the…”

“Furniture.” Dennis said wisely, patting Mac's arm and pouring him another drink.

By now the four of them were the last customers in the restaurant. Around them, exasperated employees were cleaning up for the night, muttering to each other about how inconsiderate customers were. Robin and Hannah were listening to Mac and Dennis, enraptured, and more than a little drunk.

Hannah put down the drink she'd been sipping for the past ten minutes and started fumbling with her coat, “it's late, I really think we should be getting back home.” Her eyes had started dropping before they'd even ordered desert, and she looked as though she was about to fall asleep right there at the table.

“Of course.” Robin signaled for one of the disgruntled waiters to bring him the cheque, and started putting his own coat on.

Dennis stood up, almost falling over as he did so; he held onto Mac's shoulders to steady himself, and felt him tense beneath his touch. Almost unaware of what he was doing, he ran a thumb across the nape of Mac's neck to soothe him, leaning so heavily on him that he was practically supporting his whole weight. Mac was so strong that Dennis was sure he'd barely notice.

The waiter came and handed Robin the bill, and Dennis saw Robin's eyes widen when he read it.

“Everything alright, Mr Church?” Mac said, and Dennis felt his shoulders tense even more. 

“Just hoping you boys don't get alcohol poisoning is all, you know how many bottles of wine we went through?”

Hannah laughed and tried to stand up, toppling over almost immediately. Robin turned around to try and help her up, despite being equally as unsteady on his own feet.

“Dude, we did it!” Dennis hissed in Mac's ear, hoping Robin was too distracted to hear him, “we made it through the entire night and  _ now... _ ” he paused, losing his train of thought.

“Now you can take me to New York!”

“ _ Yes _ , Mac! This time next month, we'll be sipping wine, in the height of luxury.”

Mac lowered his voice, so that even Dennis could barely hear him, “hopefully they mix their drinks a little more better up there.”

Dennis snorted, and was about to reply when Robin finally managed to scoop Hannah up from the floor and announced loudly, “We're all pissed, I'm gonna go call for a taxi-” he stopped, looking at Hannah as she tugged at his sleeve and gave him a pointed look, “or, two taxis. Hannah and I have a quick, uh, errand we have to run.”

Dragging Hannah behind him, Robin stumbled away from the table and started tapping at his phone.

“They're totally gonna bang.” Dennis whispered.

“Oh, totally.”

 

In the time they'd been inside the restaurant, the temperature had somehow dropped below freezing. Dennis huffed, shuffling his feet and stuffing his hands deep into his pockets; Mac stood beside him, barely even shivering as he narrowed his eyes at the road, keeping an eye out for their taxi.

“Dude, I can't believe they left without us,” Dennis grumbled, barely able to form a sentence through his chattering teeth.

“Well,  _ I  _ can't believe you're still cold, man! Isn't alcohol supposed to keep you warm?”

Dennis started shivering more violently, “one of the downsides of being in such brilliant shape as I am, is the lack of body fat-”

Mac rolled his eyes and took off his jacket, draping it around Dennis before he had a chance to object. It was warm, but not quite warm enough to keep Dennis from shaking.

“Congratulations, dumbass, now  _ you're  _ going to catch hypothermia.” He said bitingly, trying to shrug the jacket off.

“Shithead.” Mac muttered, and Dennis noticed that he didn't look cold at all, not even in his stupid polo shirt. In fact, he seemed to be radiating warmth.

Without giving himself time to think, and with his inhibitions lowered by the alcohol sludging through his veins, Dennis stepped in closer to Mac and put an arm around his waist, drinking in his warmth. Mac jumped at his touch, but didn't draw back, instead he put a careful arm around Dennis, drawing him in closer.

“Jesus, dude, you really are cold.” He said, his voice suddenly very quiet.

“Yeah.” 

Dennis closed his eyes and leaned against Mac for a moment, trying not to get used to the feeling of having his arm around him, trying not to get used to this warmth. He'd never been able to live in the moment, but he was grateful for the few minutes, seconds even, that he'd be able to stay like this. Maybe he was a little drunker than he'd originally thought.

“Hey, man, taxis here.” Mac said, softly, and Dennis waited for him to pull away and get in the taxi without him, speeding away into the night never to be seen again, because some unbroken rule had been broken. Maybe that was a little dramatic, but Dennis certainly didn't expect him to guide him into the taxi gently, creating little to no distance between the two of them.

Once in the taxi, Dennis felt Mac pull away slightly, and he opened his eyes to see him closing the door. Dennis wrinkled his nose, looking around. The taxi smelt like piss, and worse. It was only to be expected, but the heavy cocktail of alcohol in Dennis’ stomach began to protest.

He snapped at the taxi driver to hurry up, giving what he hoped was the right address back to Robin's place, before closing his eyes again and leaning against Mac.

“You’re serious about New York, right?” Mac said quietly.

“Yeah, man, why wouldn't I be?”

“Well…” Mac's voice was so low that Dennis had to lean in even closer to hear it, “I thought that maybe you just said all that shit so I wouldn't get pissed off and ruin the scheme.”

Dennis drew away from Mac, frowning, “dude, no! I wouldn't bullshit you on something like that.” He dropped his gaze, looking at Mac's hands, which were folded neatly in his lap. He took one of them, squeezing it tightly, “anyway, I wanna go with you.”

“Yeah?” There was a strange expression on Mac's face.

“Yeah.”

The taxi lurched, taking a corner too fast, and Dennis jerked towards Mac, grabbing onto him to keep himself from falling on the floor. They were now face to face, their noses almost touching. Dennis could feel Mac's breath on his cheek, coming in hot bursts. 

“Jesus, are you alright, man?”

Dennis didn't speak. He took in a deep breath and tried to will himself to do what he desperately wanted to do. But his muscles wouldn't seem to work, he was fixed in place, staring into Mac's worried eyes and opening his mouth wordlessly like an idiot.

“Dennis?”

“Kiss me.”

Mac's eyes darted nervously towards the taxi driver, “What-”

“Please.”

That was all Mac needed. He closed the gap between the two of them, his lips clumsily pressing against Dennis’, and Dennis felt himself fall apart. The taxi melted away, and suddenly Mac was the only thing tying him to this world, his lips, his arm protectively slung around Dennis’ shoulders, they were the only things that existed in that moment. Dennis kissed back, desperately, and, to his surprise, he felt Mac smile against his lips.

Dennis pulled back, “ah.”

The grin on Mac's face faded a little, but didn't completely disappear, “that was…”

Dennis didn’t speak. He knew that, if he opened his mouth, he’d say something harsh, or he’d push Mac away with a single cruel word. He couldn’t do that, not tonight. Instead, he closed his eyes and kissed Mac again. Mac kissed back, and Dennis felt that smile again, curving upwards against his lips; he smiled back and cupped Mac's face in his hands, drawing him in closer.

Somewhere, in another world perhaps, the taxi driver coughed pointedly and turned on the radio.

 

_ Gonna sing you my love song, gonna bring you some light _ __  
_ Gonna make you feel happy every day of your life _ __  
_ Gonna sing you my love song, gonna make it alright _ _  
_ __ You're all I ever need, my darling

 

Dennis rarely prayed, he usually left all that God stuff to Mac; but he said a silent prayer then. He prayed that the drive would never end, that they'd be able to stay in that grotty, disgusting taxi forever.

“Dennis,” Mac whispered, breaking away for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“I think we pissed off the driver.”

The driver was, in fact, scowling at the road, probably worried that they were going to jizz all over his sits. Dennis snorted, and then he giggled, and then he was doubled over with laughter.

“Screw him,” Dennis said, trying to catch his breath, “ _ screw him.” _

Mac smiled his infectious smile. Dennis smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, i love you all! this fic has been brought to you by the Let Mac And Dennis Be Tender movement
> 
> (if you wanna talk about fic, macdennis or just sunny in general, hmu! my tumblr is @vichoney)


	6. angeleyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mac reached out just far enough to tap at Dennis’ hands with his fingertips, drawing his attention away from them, “dude,” he said quietly. He was being stupidly gentle, and the weariness in his voice made Dennis’ blood curdle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry it's been like 4 months since i last updated shit has been, honestly, craaaazy
> 
> i'm gonna hopefully be updating more regularly from now on, and have a couple more fics in the works that i wanna publish before s14 so !
> 
>  
> 
> tws in this chapter for disordered eating

The first thing Dennis saw when he woke up was Mac’s face inches from his own, blank and peaceful with sleep. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember what had happened the night before; he remembered drinking too much at dinner, and freezing his ass off outside the restaurant and then…  
He sat upright in bed, his heart suddenly pounding. Mac groaned sleepily, reaching out and brushing his fingers against Dennis’ leg; Dennis jerked away, almost falling out of bed.  
“Shit!”  
Mac looked over at him, his eyes still muddled with sleep, “you alright, man?”  
“I'm fine just… really fucking hungover.”  
Mac closed his eyes, an unreadable smile ghosting his lips, “yeah, me too. You want some breakfast or something?”  
“No!” Dennis replied, too quickly, “no, I'll just get some coffee and-”  
He was interrupted by the sound of his phone beeping; grateful for the distraction, he scrambled up and started fumbling in the pockets of his jacket, which had been discarded on the floor at some point. Dennis tried not to think of a reason why his and Mac's clothes would have been thrown around the room so carelessly. 

When he finally managed to open his phone, he was greeted by two texts from Frank. The first read: “GANG MEETING… CUM 2 BAR”, and was quickly followed by a second message, “PICK U UP @ 11!!”  
“Uh,” Dennis said, not facing Mac, “Frank needs us at Paddy's, he's gonna pick us up at eleven.”  
“What time is it?”  
“Ten.”  
Mac groaned loudly, familiarly and Dennis found himself smiling, despite everything. This, at least, was familiar - trying to get Mac out of bed when he was hungover was a challenge he’d undertaken a million times now.  
He heard Mac get up, and didn't move as he felt him sidle closer; he just knelt in silence, staring blankly at his phone.  
“What's wrong, dude?” Mac said, quietly.  
“Mac, last night, do you remember…” Dennis trailed off, unsure if he remembered what had happened. All he had was the memory of Mac’s lips on his own, everything after that was a black hole he wasn’t sure he wanted filling.  
Mac was quiet for a moment too long before he spoke, “I remember, I remember the ride home-” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.  
“Yeah, obviously I remember that, asshole. I'm talking about after that - did we… y'know?” The words came out harsher than Dennis had intended, but he didn't care.  
“No! No, I remember we got back and you were thirsty as shit so we sat in the kitchen for a while and then we went upstairs and just… fell asleep.”  
“Really?” Dennis said, sniffing and shoving his phone in his pocket. He stood up and turned around to face Mac. He looked tired.  
“Really, dude! I swear after we got back nothing else happened, we were like wasted, man, we passed out instantly.”  
Dropping his gaze, Dennis bent down and began picking up their clothes from the night before, smelling them cautiously as he did so. They smelt of booze and sweat, but nothing more. He dropped them, satisfied.  
“Well. No harm, no foul, I guess.” He said, feeling something curl in his chest at the way Mac's face fell. “Now, we need to get ready for Frank. We only have an hour.”  
“I'll make breakfast.” Mac said, ignoring Dennis’ protestations as he sped out of the room.

Mac had made eggs. Dennis could tell from the moment he stepped out of the bedroom, his nose wrinkling as he was greeted by the smell of them. Eggs were one of the only things Mac was able to make competently, but the thought of them still made Dennis’ stomach churn. They were always greasy and swimming in fat - he decided to brave Mac's disappointed face by throwing them in the trash today.  
One thing he hadn't anticipated, however, was seeing Robin sat at the kitchen table, his head hung low over a glass of water. He also hadn't anticipated seeing Mac talking animatedly to him as he served him plates of charred breakfast.  
“Good morning.” Dennis said, making a beeline for the coffee machine.  
Robin mumbled something, poking at his eggs, and Mac smiled nervously, “I already made coffee, man,” he said, “and, uh, breakfast.”  
Sure enough, there was a black coffee already sat, steaming, on the kitchen table, and next to it was a full plate of eggs. Dennis clenched his jaw and sat down at the table heavily, “I'm not hungry.”  
“No, I know, man but…” Mac's gaze flickered to Robin, “you're hungover and shit, so I thought I'd make you something to help you feel better!”  
“Okay, then, Mac. Tell me why greasy, oily eggs make me feel less like vomiting than I already do?” Dennis was being cruel and he knew it, but the kindness in Mac's eyes was getting on his nerves - he was sick of being babied and looked after by him.  
Robin looked up from his own plate to stare at Dennis, and Mac coughed pointedly, sitting down at the table next to Dennis. He still smelled like shit, and Dennis shuffled backwards, sitting as far away from him as he could in the narrow kitchen chairs.  
“Because, Dennis,” Mac was deadly serious, “protein and alcohol are like, complete opposites of each other. They totally cancel each other out! And eggs are full of protein.”  
Dennis snorted loudly, “That's bullshit, Mac.” Nevertheless, he ate a forkful of egg, stubbornly pulling a face as he chewed. Mac knew that he didn’t eat breakfast on Tuesdays, why the fuck was he trying to sabotage his diet? His stomach turned as he tried to calculate how many calories he was eating.  
Robin had watched the entire scene play out, gaping with his mouth full of food; Mac was obviously worried about him, and kept trying to lean closer to Dennis, as though closeness would help thaw the chill in the room.  
“Done.” Dennis said eventually, throwing his fork down, “now, may I please leave the fucking table, baby?”  
Mac glared at Dennis coldly and snatched his plate away, “of course, sweetheart.”  
The last word cut through Dennis like a knife, leaving him clutching the table for support. Mac never used that tone with him - Mac almost never used that tone with him. Looking at him more intently than he had all morning, Dennis noticed that Mac’s shoulders were drawn just a little tighter than usual. He was pissed. Of course he was.  
“Can I talk to you upstairs, Mac?”  
Mac’s posture sagged slightly, “we only have ten minutes before we need to leave, maybe we could just-”  
“Now?”

 

“Dude, what the fuck was that? What were you thinking?” Mac slammed the bedroom door behind them, and glared at Dennis.  
“What was I thinking? What were you thinking, Mac?”  
“Wh-” Confusion clouded Mac’s face and he took a step towards Dennis, holding his hands out in front of him, “dude, if this is about last night, I didn’t tell Robin shit, he was just, like, there when I went downstairs and it felt kinda rude to not make him breakfast since I was cooking for you and-”  
Dennis moved away from Mac and scoffed, “no you idiot, I want to know why the fuck you’re trying to sabotage my diet of all things. You think because we made out once, we’re suddenly a perfect married couple and I’m not…” he trailed off. He didn’t know what he was anymore.  
“Dennis…” Mac didn’t move forward, but kept his hands outstretched, as though he was approaching a nervous animal, “I’m not sabotaging you, dude, you just looked super sick and pale this morning and I thought maybe you’d want some protein… it helps flush out the toxins from the alcohol.”  
Dennis could feel rage bubbling up inside of him, hot and uncontrollable; he looked down at his hands, imagining how much damage that one plate of eggs could have done - he could practically see fat gathering around his wrists.  
Mac reached out just far enough to tap at Dennis’ hands with his fingertips, drawing his attention away from them, “dude,” he said quietly. He was being stupidly gentle, and the weariness in his voice made Dennis’ blood curdle.  
Because Mac was kind. Dennis always told himself that this was why he hated him; he was kind and stupid and weak. He never knew when he’d lost a war, by now he should have realised that Dennis was never going to be right for him. It had been one thing before he came out, when the two of them could pretend that they were just best friends, but now that Mac was out it was impossible to pretend that what he felt for him was anything other than-  
“What do you care, anyway?” Dennis cut himself off, “doesn’t matter whether or not I have a hangover.”  
“I know, man, I just didn’t want you feeling like shit all day.”  
“Well, thanks to you, Mac, I will be!”  
Mac frowned, his gentle expression faltering as he took a step backwards. He looked hurt; Dennis turned away and shut his eyes, guilt swimming sick in his stomach. There was a moment of silence between the two of them, fragile and tense - Dennis heard Mac draw in a deep breath, as though he was going to speak, but he didn’t say a word.  
It was Dennis’ phone that broke the silence; Frank was just around the corner waiting for them. Just picturing the day he had ahead of him was enough to make Dennis’ head ache, but he knew that it wouldn’t be worth it to blow up now. He turned calmly to Mac, who was still stood behind him, arms crossed, and said weakly, “We should go before Frank gets pissed off and storms the house.”  
“Sure.”

They drove to the bar in an icy silence. Dennis let Mac sit in the passenger seat so he could direct Frank, giving himself the chance to stare out of the window and mope. If Frank noticed a tension in the air he didn’t say anything, he stayed focused on the road, occasionally grunting in approval at Mac’s directions.  
In the time it took them to get to the bar, Dennis’ quiet rage had grown into something more ugly. He got out of Frank’s car silently and walked into Paddy’s without so much as looking at Mac. He heard Frank mutter something behind him but didn’t stop

The bar had obviously been cleaned since the two of them had last been there - the floor had been thoroughly mopped, and some of the old stools had been replaced. Dennis frowned, stopping dead in his tracks. There was almost no point to doing up the bar, seeing as Robin had already been there and knew how gross it was, it was almost as though Frank was up to something.  
“Where are Charlie and Dee?” Mac asked, brushing past Dennis and sitting down at the bar. Neither of them had said a word to each other since they’d left Robin’s place, and it looked as though Mac was going to keep things that way.  
Frank rubbed his nose nervously, “back office.”  
“Back office?”  
“Yeah.”  
Frank was sweating bullets and, despite everything, Dennis couldn’t resist sharing a knowing look with Mac. They were up to something. Without hesitating, Dennis pushed past Frank and hurried towards the back office, with Mac following closely behind - he wasn’t surprised to find the door unlocked, as Charlie and Dee seemed to not be able to cover their tracks during schemes. He turned the doorknob and yelled as something small and furry ran past him, knocking his ankles and racing off into the bar.  
“Oh, goddamn it!”  
Dee and Charlie were sat on the office floor, surrounded by cats and covered in paint. Charlie’s face was covered in scratches, but he was still smiling widely as he applied paint to one of the cats, dripping orange dots onto a plain white kitten.  
Mac was the first to speak, “what are you doing?” He asked, squinting at the pair of them in disbelief.  
“Cat scheme.” Charlie said, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth as he added another few patches of orange to the cat he was holding, cooing at her as she tried to scratch him.  
“Isn’t it great? We found out that calico cats actually sell for a shit ton more than regular white cats. Charlie and I are gonna sell them on the street!”  
Dennis put his hands on his hips, “Painting cats, Dee? This is what you’ve sunk to? Jesus Christ, I need a beer.”  
He turned around to find himself face to face with Frank, who'd been watching the entire scene play out - there was a smile on his face, the kind of smile Dennis had learned to fear. He had a plan.  
Without thinking, Dennis found himself drawing in closer to Mac, and was surprised when Mac took a step forward, angling himself between the two of them. His stance was familiar, the same stance Dennis had seen him take when someone was causing trouble in the bar on a crowded Saturday night.  
Frank eyed Mac suspiciously for a moment. “You two cracked yet?”  
“Cracked? No, Frank, we haven’t cracked. Maybe this would be easier if you actually told us what was going on. What are we doing here, man? We may as well have stayed and sucked up to that lawyer bitch.”  
“Mac, you smell and look like shit. You were cracking, don’t you try to tell me otherwise.”  
Rolling his eyes, Dennis turned away from Mac and grabbed a beer from the bar, there was no way he was getting through this day sober.

By the time Frank let them all leave, it was dark outside. They’d spent the entire day painting and decorating and herding cats - Dennis wasn’t quite sure what it was they were trying to achieve, or how any of this tied into their lawyer scheme, but by this point he was past caring. All he could think about was Mac; his memories of the night before were slowly returning, and every passing moment made him ache more and more. They’d kissed - not just kissed, but made out; Dennis’ entire body was buzzing as he replayed the moment in his mind.  
“Taxi’s here,” Mac’s cold voice broke Dennis out of his thoughts.  
Dennis frowned, “taxi?”  
“We don’t have the range rover, bro, remember? Besides, you’re wasted, remember what happened last time you-”  
“Jesus Christ.” Dennis turned away from Mac and got into the taxi, his stomach twisting as the familiarly gross smell sent him back to the night before.  
Mac climbed in beside him and Dennis gave the driver the lawyer’s address. His voice was so strained that he had to repeat it several times before he was understood.  
It was as though they were both holding their breath. Mac didn’t move a muscle, his arms held stiffly out of Dennis’ way, so that there wasn’t even the smallest chance of them brushing against each other.  
Dennis cleared his throat and tried to meet Mac’s eye, but he was looking out of the window. “Hey-” he said, the words sticking to his tongue like a thick tar, “hey, Mac.”  
Mac said nothing.  
Dennis gave up and looked out of his own window. It was Saturday - the streets were milling with people, all enjoying themselves, all a little drunk and a little lost. Two men stumbled into the road, their arms wrapped tightly around each other; the driver swore as he swerved to avoid them, and pressed his hand on the horn for a little longer than necessary.  
The men hopped out of the way, laughing, and flipped the driver off. As they sped away, Dennis twisted in his seat and saw one of the men press a gentle kiss to the other’s lips. Mac didn’t see, he was looking in the wrong direction.

The journey took them longer than they’d thought it would - by the time they finally got back, Robin was waiting for them by the window, his eyes nervously scanning the street. He greeted them by the door, a wide, yet slightly nervous, smile on his face.  
“I wasn’t sure if you two were coming back!” He said, clasping his hands, “I thought maybe-” he shook his head, “but you’re here! Wonderful!”  
Dennis couldn’t bear it. Mac’s tense smile, the pitying look on Robin’s face, the questioning and prodding he knew he was going to have to subject himself to.  
“Sorry, Robin,” Mac said, his voice faltering slightly, “we, uh-”  
“I had a migraine.” Dennis said hurriedly, “I’m sick, so sick, and now I’m going to go to the, um, bedroom.”  
He raced up the stairs, pausing the door to his room. He could hear Mac covering for him, carefully explaining that yes, Dennis was under a lot of pressure at the moment and no, he didn’t need anything.  
“Shouldn’t you go see if he’s alright?” Robin said, his voice just loud enough for Dennis to make out.  
Mac didn’t reply, but Dennis heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs; he panicked, and rushed into the bedroom.

Mac was only seconds behind him, “Dennis, we need to talk.”  
“Do we?”  
Mac took a deep breath, unable to meet Dennis’ gaze, “I can’t do this anymore, man.”  
“Can’t do this? What- why?”  
“Don’t do this, Dennis. You know why.”  
Sitting down on the bed, Dennis put his head in his hands. He could feel a real headache coming on, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“Dude!” Mac raised his voice, “we kissed! We full on made out, and now you won’t talk about it and you’re treating me like shit! It’s fucking cruel to do this when you know how I feel-”  
“-how you feel?” Dennis looked up at Mac. His face was red and scrunched up in anger, but there was something else there that he couldn’t quite read. It looked almost like sadness.  
“Yes, how I feel, Dennis. You know, you’ve always known, you said so when I came out on that cruise.”  
“Is this about you being gay? Because we’ve been over this a thousand times.”  
“Me being gay? No, Jesus, this is about- nevermind, dude, I think this scheme was a bad idea.”  
Dennis’ blood ran cold. He could sense it already, the rejection. Mac had finally realised what a piece of shit Dennis was, and he was done with him. Dennis had ruined it, just like he'd ruined everything else in their lives. “If you have something to say, then say it, Mac.”  
“No.”  
Anger flashed within him and he stood up, taking three long strides towards Mac, stopping once they were nose to nose. “Tell me.” He hissed.  
“Fine.” Mac paused, looking down at his hands for a second. He opened his mouth and managed to choke out, “I’m, like, in love with you, man. I’ve been in love with you forever.”  
“Oh.” Dennis said. And then he said it again, louder, “OH.”  
“That’s all you have to say? Jesus Christ, I’m out of here - I can’t do this! I’m out of here, dude.” Mac turned and opened the door, almost pulling it off its hinges.  
“Mac, wait-”  
“Goodbye, Dennis.”  
And then he was gone, and Dennis was alone. He looked out the window, hoping against all hopes Mac would be stood outside, ready to forgive him. But the garden was empty, aside from a few birds.  
Love. Mac had used the word that Dennis had been shying away from for most of his life - he wondered how many signs he’d ignored, how many nights had they spent, dreaming about each other, how many times they’d both been wanting to close the endless gap between them. It didn’t matter now, he was gone.  
Dennis opened his phone and tried to call Dee. She didn’t pick up. He texted her 911. And then, finally, he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure if i'm happy w this chapter but it is what it is fkjdshfdsf
> 
> DISCLAIMER: please don't paint cats 
> 
> find me on tumblr at macdenniskiss, or on twitter @vichoneys !


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